One Night in Lothering
by Willowstead
Summary: A bit of screwball comedy, some romance and a hint of adventure as the attraction between Alistair and Elinora Cousland grows. Follows "The Fever" but no so you'd notice. I orginally rated it "M" but was advised that it shouldn't be. Sweet. Please R


One Night in Lothering

(Author's Note – Hello, gentle readers. This little fic follows "The Fever," though not so directly so that you can't read this one now. "The Lotus" comes much later. Again, some canon changes, but somewhat sensible ones. And ones that are apparently turning DA:O into a 1930's screwball comedy…)

Somewhere on the Road to Lothering…

"Watch out!"

Elinora Cousland had a fleeting moment to process the warning before Alistair crashed into her and drove her into the mud. The arrow that was sure to have split her skull thunked into a tree, quivering with impact. Morrigan got off a lightning bolt and Finn, her trusty Marbari War Hound, jumped the would-be-assassin and proceeded to treat him like a meaty bone.

Elinora found herself on the ground, muddy and blood-spattered, with Alistair sprawled on top her, face firmly planted in her bosom.

"So, Alistair, how long have you been waiting for this opportunity?" she asked tartly.

He quickly pushed himself up on his arms, still hovering above her. "Uh…oh. Well, I should have at least bought you dinner first."

"At least. Maybe scouted a more romantic locale as well?" She shook some mud from her hands.

"Got it. No mud holes." Alistair regained his feet, carefully avoiding any further contact with the delicate bits of her anatomy. It was for gentlemanly consideration, of course, not because moving his lower body had suddenly become uncomfortable. He was never so grateful for groin protection in all his life. He gave Elinora a hand up, and held on to her leather covered fingers for what was just a moment too long.

She smiled at him, a small sweet one, and then turned to the dead bandits. Quick work was made of their pockets and possessions.

"Why are you doing that?" Alistair asked, the disapproval clear in his voice.

"How much money do you have?" she asked with a look that made her own disapproval clear.

"Um… a couple of silvers and handful of bits." He knew where she was going with this, and he understood. She was pragmatically right, but looting the dead still grated against his morals.

"And when we get to Lothering, bloody and covered in mud, where do you expect that we'll find shelter for the night or something to eat?"

"We can camp, and we have trail rations."

Elinora stood, pocketing a few coins and a nice chunk of quartz. "Maybe it's the soft noblewoman that my mother wanted me to be, but I for one, would like a bath and a bed. We've been on the road for days and I'm pretty sure I'm wearing at least half of it."

"Fair point." He thought she looked pretty good in dirt. Brought out the brightness of her eyes, but he knew better than to say that.

Morrigan looked at the two of them, arms-crossed, with a slightly bemused look on her face "Lothering is only a another few hours march. We should make it by mid-afternoon."

"Let's go then." Elinora whistled for her dog and started walking. Alistair followed, just a little slower.

That night, in the Inn at Lothering….

Elinora slid a little deeper into the beaten copper bath. The water had cooled to perfect, easing aching muscles and stinging some of her new scrapes and wounds. She'd been too impatient for a bath and some peace to dig up one of their injury kits. Oh well, some small pains built up tolerance for the large ones she knew she would sustain later.

For the first time in days, she had some real privacy. Peace and quiet, even with the rumbling of people in the common room below. Alistair and the others were down there, politely giving her the first bath and some time to herself. He'd even stayed in his armor; better to intimidate the locals, he said. All she'd had to do to earn this privacy was kill three of Loghain's men sent to arrest her, solve a trade dispute in the village and find the corpse of some poor child's mother.

This war made so many orphans.

The grief hit her, hard and fast. The sob wrenched from her body as the lid she'd so tightly locked down on her feelings exploded. Mother, father, her little nephew Orrin, her sister-in-law, even her old Nan, all gone. Maker's breath, her whole childhood was wiped out in one night. Fergus might still be out there somewhere, unaware that his family had been slaughtered, or he could be as dead as most of those who followed the King to Ostragar.

She was alone in the world.

Howe would pay.

Tears subsided eventually. She washed herself and got out of the tub with a sigh. It was not a luxury she would find again soon. Neither was the proper bed that she would share with Morrigan and Leliana tonight. This room had originally been that of Loghain's men, but since they no longer needed it, being dead and all, she had convinced the innkeeper to let them have it for the night. Alistair had gotten the stupidest grin on his face when the party had negotiated sleeping arrangements. Men. Practicality and body heat had the females of the party sharing the bed, and Alistair was quite literally the odd man out. He and Finn would share a nice pallet on the floor made of their own bedrolls. Leliana had volunteered to sleep in the middle, with a bit more enthusiasm than Morrigan had been comfortable with.

Dried and re-dressed in the simple tunic and breeches she wore under her armor, it was time to go down to the common room and give someone else a turn at peace and quite. Outside the door, a young refugee woman waited, two full and two empty buckets at her feet. Jaussie had accepted Elinora's request for some assistance getting a bath brought in exchange for a few coins and a corner to sleep in. The inn's staff was working at capacity and had balked at the request for something so frivolous as a bath. With all the people standing around, it wasn't hard to find someone willing to lend a hand. Jaussie was also alone in the world, her family farm hold being overrun with Darkspawn, and was at a loss as to what to do. "Hauling buckets is better than prostituting myself any day," she'd stated plainly.

So many orphans.

Elinora nodded to the pragmatic girl as she set the full pails by the fire and dipped the empty ones into the tub to remove the dirty water. Whoever was next might not get perfectly clean bathwater, but it would be much better that what was standard. Usually there was only one tub full for all who wanted it.

Elinora took the dirty buckets down herself and fetched more hot water for the kitchen, informing her companions that the next bath was being prepared. Morrigan and Leliana declined, neither having ended up in a mud hole, but Alistair was happy to step up. He seemed glad to have the chance to get away from the women. Elinora sent him to the kitchens for more empty buckets (now sure they were using every one the inn possessed).

Jaussie had tidied the room a bit and laid out some dry towels. Alistair took some of the clean, hot water and poured it into the pitcher for a shave. He declared the tub "good enough for me," and sent the ladies away, buckets and Elinora's still muddy armor in hand.

He listened at the door until their footsteps had faded away. Once sure that he was alone, he pulled from his pack a rolled up handkerchief. Inside it was a perfect red rose, the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time.

Well, maybe the second most beautiful thing.

Could he do it? Could just give it to her? No, the timing just wasn't right. Here they were, in a squalid inn, sharing a room with three other people, all of them women, which they only got because they killed the pervious tenants. Now was not the time to be sentimental. He couldn't stand it if she rejected him, not in such close quarters. He would save it for later.

From his pack, he pulled out a lyrium potion that they had looted off the body of a bandit. It was a trick that an old Reverend Mother had taught him. She was very fond of flowers and shared with him that a cut flower put into a lyrium potion would last for a very long time. It needed a few hours to drink up the potion, but after that would be preserved for, as far as she knew, forever. She had made herself a new bouquet of summer roses each year, then passed them on throughout the winter to those who needed a small reminder of the Maker's love. Brides who were able to get hold of a potion often preserved their wedding bouquets with the same method.

That task done, he got down to a good bath and a good shave.

Alistair had someone he wanted to look good for.

Much later that night….

It had seemed so very practical at the time, like such a good idea, but with Leliana's elbow poking into her ribs for the third time, Elinora had come to the realization that camping might have not have been such a bad idea. No sooner had the thought crossed her sleep-deprived brain, then Leliana shifted and Elinora went sprawling on the floor.

She hit the floor with a thud and found herself nose to nose with Alistair, now awake and trying very hard not to laugh. She laid a firm hand over his mouth and put the other to her lips to shush him.

No one else woke up, except Finn who just glanced at the two and went back to sleep. Ferocious war dog indeed.

Alistair's quaking subsided, and though he liked her bare hand touching his face, it was becoming hard to breath. He pulled it aside with his own and smiled at her. She smiled back, a bit more chagrined, but amused nonetheless.

"Mind if I stay?" she whispered.

"As long as you don't mind sharing," he whispered back.

She shook her head slightly, and then reached up on to the bed for an empty pillow. She looked for an extra blanket too, but had no luck. She shrugged to herself, then curled up tightly, facing away from Alistair, much to his disappointment. He drifted to sleep with her scent teasing his dreams.

Dawn came far too soon for any of them.

Elinora woke to Finn buffeting her face. She moved to get up and go walk him, when she encountered a slight problem.

Alistair's arms were wrapped around her waist.

Oh. Sweet. Andraste.

She pulled away quickly, which woke him. "Hm? Oh." One hand still lay on her waist. "Oh…. Uh-oh." He drew away his hand. "Um… one of us must have gotten a little cold…"

She nodded and pulled on her boots much faster than was necessary. "Yes, of course. I'm going to go walk Finn now." She left the room abruptly. The war hound gave him and interesting look as he followed his mistress.

Alistair was most certainly not cold now. Bacon could have cooked on his cheeks. Even worse, he couldn't escape Morrigan's glare and Leliana's amusement. Mornings were often not kind to men and this one was a little extra cruel. He sat up with a sigh and tried to subtly adjust the blanket for decency.

"So…." he said, carefully keeping his tone conversational. "How did everyone sleep?"


End file.
